THE WIGWAG TALK.
"Don't you think Rob ought to be pretty nearly up there by now, boys?"
Tubby was asking, when about half an hour had crept by since the patrol
leader left them.
He had become quite anxious, so much so, in fact, that with many grunts
and "whees" he had actually managed to get upon his feet. Either Andy or
Merritt would have been only too willing to lend the fat chum a helping
hand, but Tubby was more or less proud and sensitive; he might accept
assistance from Rob, who never made a habit of laughing in his face, but
it was a different matter when any of the other scouts were concerned.
Then he had practiced waving his signal flags to and fro, making those
particular movements that stood for letters in the Myers' code of
wig-wagging. These had been readily interpreted by both Merritt and
Andy, who were fairly up in the service, and could also relay messages
by heliograph, using a bit of broken mirror to flash the rays of the
sun from hilltop to valley.
"I'm looking to see him show up any old time now," Andy replied; for he
was at that moment standing with his eyes glued on the lofty crag, from
which the signal-sender expected to wave his message when the time came.
"But none of us have so much as glimpsed our chum even once on his way
up there," Tubby complained; "which I take it is kind of queer. Gee! I
hope nothing's happened to Rob! That would be a calamity, sure!"
"Oh! don't worry about Rob," Andy cautioned him; "he knows how to look
out for himself, all right. You don't find _him_ stumbling over roots
and all sorts of things like--er--some of the rest of us fellows. No
danger of Rob bringing up in one of those deep, dry ravines they call
_arroyos_ down here in Old Mexico."
"Yes, but sometimes accidents do happen even to the smartest scouts,
don't they?" the fat boy persisted in saying, as though bent on allowing
his feeling of anxiety to have full sway. "Huh! haven't you ever had a
limb break when you believed it to be good and strong; or a stone slip
out from under your foot, throwing you on your face? Even Rob, clever
as he is, might run across a piece of bad luck. Then, how d'ye know but
that one or two of those greaser cavalrymen might not have been camping
somewhere along the trail Rob followed, and seeing him coming, decided
to lie in ambush to knock him over? Any way, I'm getting what my mother
calls 'fidgetty'; and I'll be glad when it's all over."
"Well, chirk up, then, Tubby!" exclaimed Merritt just then, with a low
laugh.
"Oh! did you see him, Merritt? And is that why you speak so
encouragingly?" demanded the stout boy with quivering lips and a look of
intense eagerness on his round face.
The corporal of the Eagles nodded his head in the affirmative.
"Yes, I'm dead sure I had a glimpse of his khaki coat close to the crag,
just while you were talking in such a gloomy way; and if you wait two
minutes, chances are you'll see him wave his flag to let us know he has
arrived."
"Bully for you, Merritt; that's the best news I've had for a 'coon's
age.' But it is too bad we didn't think to bring a couple of mirrors
along with us on this trip. Then, you know, we could have carried on our
little confab by flashes of the heliograph. It's a whole lot easier
than wigwag work, where your arms get so tired waving flags."
"There! See what's happened?" cried Andy suddenly.
"It's Rob, as sure as anything!" exclaimed the pleased Tubby. "He got up
to that rock all right, didn't he? Watch him wave the O. K. sign, will
you? And now I guess he'll take a good look around, so as to locate the
enemy, and then begin to tell us what's doing."
Evidently Rob was taking advantage of his elevated position to survey
the surrounding country in all directions. It would doubtless pay the
besieged rebel forces to know what was going on, and if there was any
hope of assistance coming to help drive the foe away.
The minutes began to drag horribly to impatient Tubby, and doubtless to
the other scouts as well. They could see that Rob was turning this way
and that, as though making good use of the excellent field glasses he
had thought to carry with him on his ascent.
"Why doesn't he hurry and send something?" Tubby muttered for the tenth
time as he walked to and fro, partly to work off his excitement, and
partly to avoid the stiffness that overtook him whenever he stood still.
"Here I'm all primed up for business at the old stand, and ready to
receive any message that may come. I've practiced the whole code over
and over, you notice, fellers; and if I do say it myself, that
shouldn't, I never felt in such good trim as right now. If only Rob
would get busy and whisper something! He must have learned a heap by
now. Why, it seems like half an hour since he bobbed up serenely there!"
"Less than ten minutes, Tubby, because I timed him," interposed Merritt.
"Well, long enough for him to take a squint at a whole circle and see
all sorts of things," grumbled Tubby, quite disconsolate over the delay.
"If this keeps up, it's going to wear me away to a skeleton, that's
what."
"No danger, Tubby, of that happening," declared Andy.
"And get busy now," added Merritt. "There comes your first signal! He is
asking if you are ready to take a message. Answer him O. K., Tubby."
"Hurray! Now mebbe there won't be something doing!" exclaimed the
other, aroused to a full consciousness that duty called.
Tubby in action was a sight to behold. He was so fat that, when his
chubby arms got to working vigorously, he looked something like a Dutch
windmill with the sails flapping furiously in a half gale.
But Tubby knew his Myers' wigwag code all right, and could receive
better than nearly any fellow on the roster of the Eagle Patrol. When
one masters the art of taking a message with fair speed, sending is what
Tubby always called "pie." This is also the case in telegraph work. In
sending, one knows in advance what is coming, and the brain can work
ahead, but this is not so in receiving.
Rob made his flag do its duty with a vigor that kept both Tubby and
Merritt keyed up to top notch in order to read the message, while, as
the fat scout called out the letters, Andy wrote them down.
And this was what the boy on the rocky crag sent as a beginning:
"Can see enemy--number about sixty in sight--have started to turn flank,
and make attack from other side--warn Lopez!"
That was alarming news, because, if the movement were undertaken without
any notice to the rebel force, they would undoubtedly be caught napping;
and it does not require much of a surprise to create a panic with troops
who are unseasoned fighters.
"But how could they cross over to the other side of the railroad without
being seen, I want to know?" Tubby asked, after the whole message had
been received.
"We can't tell that from here, but you bet your boots Rob knows," Andy
was quick to reply, showing what an amount of confidence the boys of the
Eagle Patrol were wont to place in their recognized leader under any and
all conditions.
"Yes, that's right," Merritt added. "It might be there is some gully
that the road spans, which we didn't notice when making our dash here,
where the Federals could dodge through without anybody being a whit the
wiser. Anyway, Rob says that's what they mean to do, which settles it,
Tubby."
"There, he's waving again!" called out the observant Andy. "Quick, get
busy and let him know you're ready to take the next message, Tubby!"
"On deck!" chirped the receiving end of the air telegraph, which the
boys often called their "wireless."
This time Rob went on a little further. Possibly he may have guessed
that what he sent before was apt to mystify the boys, and wished to make
it plainer. At any rate he took up the very subject they had just been
discussing, as though he had some means of overhearing their little
talk.
"One mile above, track passes over a little gulch. Shallow, but deep
enough to answer purpose. Can see soldiers crawling under right now.
Rocks lie beyond, and from that easy to creep close to train there. Warn
Lopez, and have him tell captain of rebel forces. Get all that?"
Now came Tubby's turn.
Really, all he had to send back was the "O. K." signal, showing that he
had read everything that had been sent; but, then, Tubby was a good
talker, and it was hard for him to resist a golden opportunity like the
present, where he could display his knowledge along the line of flirting
with the flags.
So he started the wave, and in another minute was working industriously.
"Don't think we missed a single letter," he told the boy on the crag;
"and you sure sent faster than ever before in your life. What are we to
do if they attack the train? Ought we to join in and use our guns? We
want to know, because it might be too late when you get back. Answer."
The two watching boys had started to spell out Tubby's message. Thinking
it a waste of precious time at first, Merritt had even started forward
to object when he caught some of the later words, and this halted him.
After all, it was not so far out of the way for Tubby to want to know
what their line of conduct should be under certain conditions. They had
not anticipated anything like this when Rob left; and, as he was their
leader, all orders had to come from him.
On this account, then, they waited to see what the answer would be.
Apparently Rob had made out what Tubby asked, for he at once sent
another message. As the letters followed each other in quick succession,
even Andy could read their import.
"Hold back all you can, unless it seems absolutely necessary to join in.
We have come down here on a peaceful errand, and don't want to side with
either force more than we can help. This is a Mexican affair, and Uncle
Sam is keeping his hands off. Understand?"
"What shall I tell him, Merritt?" questioned Tubby, eagerly waiting for
orders, because, in the absence of the acting scout master and patrol
leader, the corporal was looked upon as in charge.
"We'll try to be wise and cautious, tell Rob that," replied Merritt;
"and we'll keep out of the muss till we think we've just _got_ to help,
in order to save our lives. That's all, Tubby."
Accordingly, Tubby started in again, for his arm had by now rested up
more or less, so that he was in condition for work. The short message
was possibly strung out considerably, because Tubby realized that in all
probability it would be his last chance to flirt the flag, on this
occasion, at least.
Then Rob waved them good-bye, and turned as though to take one last look
over the country beyond, which was hidden from the sight of the boys at
the stalled train.
Tubby still remained on his feet, though casting anxious eyes toward the
spot where the comfortable blanket seat had been temporarily left, while
Merritt was going over the message Andy had written down, so that he
could give it to Lopez accurately for transmission to the rebel
captain.
All at once Andy uttered an exclamation. There was such a note of alarm
in his voice that Merritt looked up from his paper, and Tubby whirled
around so as to face the other.
"What ails you now, Andy?" demanded Merritt.
"It's Rob!" exclaimed the scout addressed. "I just saw several soldiers
creeping along the trail he must use coming back; and they mean to lie
in ambush for him!"